Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. “Very well,” he said. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. “Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir John,” he said, holding out a Daily Telegraph. Go on. She is called Madame Ibstock, you understand. Running his hand hastily over it, he was startled to find it one complicated mass of bolts and bars. “I am not dependent upon any one. "So the wheelman told you? I've always spoken it, though I can neither read nor write it. ” “Thank you,” Anna answered. Mr.
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